She forgot to leave room.

{Munich.November 2012}|

Once upon a time I was walking down one of my favorite streets in Munich when I felt an uncertain pang in my heart.

It wasn't homesickness. No, that pang I am very familiar with. It wasn't because I was nervous, or even because I saw a cute puppy and wanted to snuggle it for years. This was one I had never noticed before.

So I found the nearest (free) wifi signal and called him.

He didn't answer. I've always answered his calls. My calls? Well they are rarely answered.

I was alone. Utterly, and completely alone. Not because I didn't have friends that cared about me somewhere in the world, I do. And my family, they are always in my heart. But this time, I was lonely, for me.

The pang would not have ceased had he answered--no, this pang had possibly nothing to do with him at all.

That sounds incredibly odd. Bordering on obnoxious really.

But it was true. I didn't even have myself to turn to.

You see, a few months ago I met someone here. I met someone and I fell hard (after much hesitation, mind you). But of course, he had me convinced, and I was trusting, and I dove in head first. I gave every ounce of my energy to not only the "relationship," but to him. I have a history of doing this. And it's not like I'm trying to say how "selfless" I was or how "caring" I am. This is not what I mean at all.

It didn't work out. Well, things have taken a turn, and by that I mean I keep caring. Here I am standing, caring, thinking, and hoping. And him--well, I'm not really sure what he is up to--he suddenly doesn't have the time to talk or write. (Funny how when he wrote me--even at my most stressed--I took the time to answer.)

Maybe in time. Or maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe it was yet another step closer to the real thing; merely another lesson learned about relationships.

While I am caring and give all my heart to all relationships--friends and loves alike--I sometimes forget about myself. So often in relationships I have thought, Well, whatever he wants to do, I'll work my life out around that. I can always change my plans.

That is bonkers.

That is absurd and I (we) need to give myself (ourselves) some flippin' credit.

We deserve to be thought of, cared for, and loved for our dreams and hopes, too.

I'm trying to treat myself a little bit better. And, as soon as I do, I'm certain the loves I encounter will treat me kinder, as well.

It's sad that this is something I'm really struggling to do; being kind to myself, learning to love myself.

It's even sadder that it is much harder said than done.

But here I am, trying every single day.

p.s. this is beautiful:

{Quote of the Week.}

“Those who are truly enlightened, those whose souls are illuminated by love, have been able to overcome all of the inhibitions and preconceptions of their era. They have been able to sing, to laugh, and to pray out loud; they have danced and shared what Saint Paul called 'the madness of saintliness'. They have been joyful - because those who love conquer the world and have no fear of loss. True love is an act of total surrender.”-Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

Every little bit of it.

{via: as the sun rises over the mountains.}

For the highs and the lows. The days of being completely on my own. Days of pure joy. For those who have broken my heart. For those who have loved me more than I ever have myself. Those who have tricked me into loving them by wearing a disguise. The scary moments alone far, far away. The moments of utter embarrassment. The laughter-filled nights. The family I miss (but am always close to in my heart). The friends who've moved on and the friends who've stayed close. The tears of happiness. The tears of sorrow. And the tears 'just because'. For confusion. For clarity. And everything in between.

These are the things that bring me even closer to love. These are the things that are meant to happen.

These are the things for which I give my thanks; the things that make me love my blessed life. 
Every little bit of it.

{Quote of the Week.}

-is it enough to breathe.

The time I went to Oktoberfest in September, but didn't post about it until November.

(See! Photos! Finally! I'm terrible with any camera, friends. Painfully, awkwardly, awful with one. I'm trying to work on it!)

I went to Oktoberfest with a few friends I have stolen  adopted from my dear friends Katherine and Christian. It was everything I had hoped for and more... and then some more! But honestly, the memories will last forever. Because Oktoberfest is a magical thing. ; )

"It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well."

I gave in and bought the new Taylor Swift album a few weeks ago when I bought my new computer. I decided it was fate. After all, how many tiny Bavarian village electronic stores carry the newest T.Swift album a day after it comes out? Not very many. It was clearly meant to be. And I'm so glad that I did, because I may be eating cheap cheese and packages of bread for a while, but at least my ears are happy and my heart is comforted. 

My favorite songs, you ask?

State of Grace

We learn to live with the pain//Mosaic broken hearts

Treacherous

I can't decide if it's a choice//Getting swept away//I hear the sound of my own voice//Asking you to stay

Stay Stay Stay

I just like hangin' out with you, all the time.//All those times that you didn't leave;//It's been occurring to me I'd like to hang out with you, for my whole life.

Holy Ground

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress,//We had this big wide city all to ourselves.//We blocked the noise//with the sound of ‘I need you’,//And for the first time I had something to lose,

The Lucky One

And they tell you that you’re lucky.//But you’re so confused,//Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used.

Starlight

He said, "Look at you, worrying so much about things you can't change//You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way"//He was trying to skip rocks on the ocean, saying to me,//"Don't you see the starlight, starlight?//Don't you dream impossible things?"

Begin Again

And for the first time, what's past is past

(Ok, so really pretty much the entire album.)

Say what you will about her, but the girl has a way with words and music. Goodness.

Also, I love this.

Trying to find your footing.

{via: flickr.}

The feeling you get in your stomach before stepping onto an escalator or into a revolving door sets up permanent residence during your twenties. You have to keep with the flow. You don't want to be the one that misses the first stair--smacks right into the door. Every step before you is carefully calculated, dreaded.

To you at least. Everyone else seems to have it mastered; the art of stepping in, stepping up. You don't. Before you even try your mind is filled with terrifying scenarios you're convinced are about to come true. If only you could take the damn elevator, skip it all, including this dumb metaphor.

The hot mess of a metaphor I just tried to convey is my attempt at expressing how it feels to be among peers that are getting real jobs, marrying their loves, creating babies. They seemingly took off their cap and gowns after graduation and stepped right into the next phase of their lives. I applaud that. I envy that. I definitely didn't do that.

Instead, I feel like I'm merely an older version of the person I was 6 months ago when I received my degree. Nothing else has changed. Well, I moved across the world again. But sometimes I wonder if I maybe I moved again because it bought me more time to figure out what to do post-university. It bought me time, but it didn't slow down anyone else's clocks.

Rather, I am a million miles away, reading updates about how so-and-so just got a raise and your dog's cousin's best friend just got married to her best friend.

I'm trying to convince myself it's ok to take a differenet route, a different staircase. But it's hard to keep myself convinced daily.

So instead, I'm just trying to convince myself that it's ok to feel scared, anxious--eager even. Some days all that matters is that you feel anything at all.

Even if you feel like writing a terrible, terrible metaphor for a blog post.

To remember on even your hardest of days...

You are loved. If you took every ounce of love and poured it into the universe, the sides of the universe would be leaking with your love. You are infinitely loved.

You are wanted. There is always someone wishing, hoping, yearning for someone half as great as you to grace their lives.

You are needed. Your words, your smile, your laugh; the world needs you. So many people need you. They may never tell you the difference you make in their lives, but you don't need them to, like they need you to.

You will be OK. Some days are just tougher than others. Some days you wake up with a cloudy head and soggy heart. These days happen. For some more often than others. But these days happen to everyone. The thing about these days? These days are exactly that: days. In less than 24 hours it can all turn around, you never know. But you should know you will be OK. Don't let these days fool you. They are only days.

You can do this. You may wonder how you will ever survive, get passed the aches and pains and worries. But you have before. And you will again. You can, you have, and you will. This is your motto.

And most of all, even when you feel most alone, most unlovable, most afraid, close your eyes and allow yourself to feel the love radiating around you.

That love is to you. That love is you.

...you are always loved.

{Quotes of the Week.}

{via: sunshine & pearls.}

“When I find the person who is perfect for me, he won’t feel inadequate in my presence. He will see my light, talents, intelligence, and charisma and use it to brighten his own life. He will embrace my flaws and help me build bridges where there were once dams. He will love without condition; he will love even when he’s sad and angry. He will inspire me, we will inspire each other, and this will be love, finally.”-Samantha Willner

{Quote of the Week.}

{via: tumblr.}

Tales of a Never Nude: I wear a swimming suit in the sauna.

I went to the spa in my apartment building. Mind you, this was after hours of summoning up the courage to do so. 

I walk in and all seems well. I go to the damp room--because I am convinced in a dry sauna you will catch on fire. My rationale is brilliant-- I KNOW.

Of course, the door will not open. NOT AT ALL. But do not worry, a man from the infrared sauna came over to help me. IN THE NUDE.

But he couldn't get the door to open. So his other (naked) friend came over and they push and pull with all their might together. Meanwhile, letting it all loose. I stand there, of course, in a swimming suit. Covered by a towel. Mortified.

After a good THREE SOLID MINUTES of fussing with the door from hell, they get it open. Of course they both had to squat down together to pull from the bottom... but don't worry, they sure weren't.

How do you enjoy a spa when you have just witnessed such a thing. HOW?

So then I think, hmm. They are about my age--I've seen them naked unfortunately--how much more awkward could it be if I asked them what they do in the town for fun, or you know, WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE THAT AREN'T 100?!

Surely, I thought, they'd put on their towels if I politely started a conversation while wearing MY towel up to my chin.

I bravely wander over and ask. And of course they are neither from here, nor do they take the social cue about the towel. INSTEAD, they decided to stretch out, sit with their knees to their chest or, I KID YOU NOT, SIT CRISS-CROSS-APPLESAUCE STYLE. 

For the next hour, we talked about Tupac. Because my sitting there with my glasses fogged up, a towel clutched to my chin, I exude the idea that I would be a "TUPAC AFICIONADO." (Lucky for them, I am.)

I stayed. And I memorized the ceiling tiles. (There were 150 of them to be exact.)

And then I braved the whirlpool.

...and by "braved" I mean I went over to it, saw that it said NO SWIMMING SUITS!!!!!!!!!!!!! and was really put off. Because that's a bit forward. and I had my fill of nudity for the day.

I almost just did it anyway, swimsuit and all, because who is really going to come up and be like TAKE OFF YOUR SUIT---but then I remembered this is Germany, and they SO WOULD DO THAT (because they keep it real, and I admire them for their ability to do so.). 

I left.

And I reinforced the common stereotype that the Americans are incredibly uncomfortable with nudity, really even probably to an extreme extent. But that's ok. Because I clearly represent the rest of my country... (no, I don't.).

But here's the thing: I'm determined to walk through that sauna in my birthday suit like a boss before my time here is over. 

Next week I plan to try it only in a towel -- sans swimming suit underneath. But no promises.

Because these people have the self confidence I dream of. 

I believe when someone first said, "You do you, Haters gon' hate" they were German.